


TONY

by TempusNoKitsune



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Beast Hank, Domestic Avengers, Hurt Tony, M/M, Marvel 616 - Freeform, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Feels, Tony Feels, Tony unlocks higher brain capacity, Tony-centric, avoidance of details that I'll butcher, based off the movie Lucy, hug these bois, irony man, jarvis loves his idiot genius boy, kitschy science, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 01:18:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15718950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempusNoKitsune/pseuds/TempusNoKitsune
Summary: “I-” He gasps in a breath, and suddenly he can feel his cells reproducing, can feel the “controls” on his metabolism, can feel the magnetic and electric waves traveling through the airspace. “I can...I can feel everything.”Steve blinks at him, a bewildered, wide eyed stare. Tony can feel the other’s hand, though out of sight, reach for the nurse call.





	TONY

**Author's Note:**

> A Lucy AU because:  
> 1) I really liked the movie and thought that it was fantastic and terribly underrated  
> 2) I really wanted to see what Tony would be like when he got that kind of control  
> 3) I've never seen a fic like it before
> 
> (This doesn't really follow the movie, at all. It just takes the general concept and idea, some of the alterations of the cerebral capacity, and the drug.)

It’s a routine fight, as it almost always is. Sure there are some instances in which the things that the Avengers face become life-threatening, or more so, but that’s pretty rare in the whole scheme of things. So, that being said this should be fairly easy. It’s just a medium sized group of non-descript grunts after all. There’s nothing particularly impressive or different about them, and they shouldn’t have made as much headway as they already had, and it kind of pissed Tony off.

He had been in a meeting on something or another, he hadn’t particularly been paying attention at the time mostly because everything that the board said was not only laughably incorrect, but he’d already fixed the problems in question on his phone within the first 10 minutes of said meeting. In fact, he was putting together a plan to bail when the power was cut. He’s standing up almost immediately, because Stark buildings didn’t just lose power. He’d been halfway out of the door, hand digging in his pocket for his communicard when he’s hit hard on the head, and the cloyingly sweet smell of chloroform takes over his senses.

Now he’s sitting with his arms cuffed behind him in a rather uncomfortable metal chair in the middle of a disproportionately nice looking hotel room. Nicely dressed men have come in and out of the room, but they’ve not done even as much as looked his way. He’s not terribly concerned with the whole situation. Being kidnapped isn’t really anything new for him, and he’s certainly been in worse situations than this, and he knows that his fingers had caught on the card before he’d gone down, so even if it’s been left behind somewhere the GPS will lead the Avengers to a very obviously missing Tony

When a man in a black suit comes to sit in front of him, locking eyes but not saying a thing, he begins to wonder if this is maybe more of a SI, just Tony Stark thing, than something that should involve the Avengers. But the man just nods and then the world goes black.

Tony wakes up back in the SI building, sprawled out on his back on the floor of his office with his whole body aching and his communicard buzzing away relentlessly on the ground beside his head. He’s on his feet in moments, adrenaline kicking in and pushing him past the dull pain and scrambling towards the closet in his office that houses an emergency armor. He has it on in mere moments, and turns on the comms briskly as he opens up a window and takes to the sky.

“Iron Man, on. What’s going on guys?”

“Tony are you alright?” It’s Steve’s voice that comes through first, not that he would have expected anything less. He sounds concerned, not that that’s anything new, and if he has time to be concerned the fight’s likely not anything too serious, not that that’s going to stop Tony from swooping in any way.

“I’m good Cap, what’s the 411?”

There’s a brief silence that tells him that the majority of his question just went over Steve’s head, but the man seems to grasp the concept fairly quickly, and fills him in on the situation. No matter how long Steve has been in the future, there’s just no way he’s going to grasp years and years of slang.

“We’re not sure who the group is. They’re not Hydra or aim, which are the usual tech-boosted foot soldiers, but they’re definitely combat trained. They’re not causing a lot of damage, and they aren’t aiming for any civilians, they seem very focused on the Avengers.”

“What kind of firepower are they packing?” He asks as he pulls up on the scene, lifting a hand and firing a repulsor at a man dressed in black and wielding what looks like a glowing semi-automatic.

“Not sure. Looks like military regulation armaments-” There’s a small grunt on the other end of the line, and Tony know’s that Cap must be pretty close to where he’s begun hovering, because he can hear the low tone vibration of the shield hitting something metal before bouncing back, “but it’s almost like they’re power boosted?”

“The glow-y part?”

This time it’s Hank that speaks up, and he hadn’t really been aware that they’d been speaking on the main channel, not that it really mattered.

“Not magic. It’s definitely energy related. Earth based energy.”

Tony hums and flies up to circle around the area. The Avengers have got the area well covered, and the small group of black-clad grunts are slowly backing up towards one another, guns raised in a defensive position. Actually, their level of fighting is a bit suspiciously resigned in if he thinks about it, but getting the group apprehended and out of public domain is the number one concern at the moment, everything else can be dissected at the debrief.

“Looks like we’ve got them cornered, go team!” He cheers over energetically, and somewhat sarcastically, over the comms.

And they do, have them that is. Like he thought, it was a very routine fight against a low caliber group. All loose ends should be tied up within the next hour and they can all get on with their days. Of course that’s when things go wrong. Not just in general, since the team as a whole isn’t really affected. No, it’s just Tony.

They’ve got the grunts rounded up, disarmed, hands behind their backs, and shuffling off towards a containment unit, when their faces all turn upwards as the sun catches his suit. It’s not a completely odd or unusual thing, but then they continue to stare, and stare, and stare, and then...Well, then Tony is suddenly finding it hard to breathe, black spots dancing around his vision. He has the suit run a quick diagnostic before setting the armor on a automatic route back to the mansion. He also means to let the team know in a calm and controlled way, but it ends up coming out more as pained rush of air.

The suit automatically falls away as soon as he’s secure in the workshop, but without the gold-titanium alloy to support his joints he melts to the floor like a puddle. He feels like his nerves are on fire, and his blood is boiling, and the light of the RT starts to stutter dangerously. It’s all so quick and unprecedented that it’s all he can to to flip himself onto his back and sprawl out broadly over the blessedly cold cement floor. 

A couple of his bots whirr worriedly by his head, but he can’t even move a hand to reassure them and wave them away. In fact, after what already felt like an eternity of burning, searing pain, his body begins to spasm uncontrollably, seizing violently. He curls his fingers up tight, nails biting in to his palm, sputtering as he loses control of his throat, and the sharp tang of blood blooms over his tongue.

A request for entrance pings over the open interface, and he half wishes that whoever it is will figure out quickly that he can’t let them in and enters an override, and half wishes that no one will come in at all so that they don’t see him like this. Of course, he has absolutely no control over...well, right now, over anything. He can hear the door unlock and open, and footsteps, but he can’t move to see anything as he arches up off of the floor.

“Sir?” The voice calls out, and Tony even with limited brain function registers that its Jarvis calling his name, and at this point Jarvis hearing Tony sputter uselessly is probably one of the better things that he’s heard to alert him to Tony’s whereabouts. When he starts to seize again, he thinks, but maybe it’s one of the worst ways that he’s found him.

Jarvis audibly speeds up, and when he leans over into Tony’s line of vision he looks a whole new level of concerned that would have left Tony’s heart sinking if he could feel anything but pain. He starts drifting in and out as Jarvis calls for help, and the next time he narrows in, opening his eyes even though he hadn’t remembered closing them, he registers Steve’s eyes. He would know those cerulean blues anywhere, but he feels like he blinks and when he looks again they’re gone, replaced by stark white. He realises that it’s probably not a good thing that this is happening, but at least it seems like he’s going to be taken care of so maybe he can just take a little nap. Just a little one. Just rest his eyes. Yeah.

 

…

 

When he comes to the next time he chokes rather violently on a plastic tube, and a beeping noise goes wild.

“He’s awake! Page the nurse!”

Tony continues to choke and sputter, thanking God that he has a massively reduced gag reflex, because otherwise he’s sure there would be very painful, very messy vomit absolutely everywhere. Then there’s the distinct taste of saline in the back of his mouth, and a cold feeling up his arm, and then his throat slowly relaxes as his thoughts become foggy once again.

The next time he wakes up is decidedly better, in some ways. There’s no bulky plastic tube in his throat, and he pulls in a heavy breath. That’s where it stops being better. At first he blames the fact that he can feel the oxygen travel into his lungs, and pump into his bloodstream, on the drugs, but after nearly 15 minutes of the same he thinks that might not be the case. 

He struggles with opening his eyes. Breathing on his own is one thing, but cracking open heavy eyelids under the possible influence of hospital grade drugs is a whole other obstacle. What he can pinpoint as the beep of a heart monitor picks up slightly, betraying his wakeful state.

“Tony?”

He lets out a groggy groan, and slowly blinks open his eyes, not even surprised when they meet their familiar blue twins.

Steve smiles at him gently, just the barest curve of his mouth. “How are you feeling?”

Tony feels the jerk reaction of a sarcastic, “oh fine, just like I’ve been run over by a truck,” bubbling up, then he actually takes stock of his body. In all actuality he feels better than he has in years, which is...odd, to say the least. Then, as he focuses in more intensely, he suddenly realises that he can feel his blood pumping through his veins, can hear his heartbeat. He blinks again, chokes on his own spit, and tries to push himself up into a sitting position. 

Steve’s hands move to both of his shoulders and push back at him. “Tony, you need to stay laying down.”

“I-” He gasps in a breath, and suddenly he can feel his cells reproducing, can feel the “controls” on his metabolism, can feel the magnetic and electric waves traveling through the airspace. “I can...I can feel everything.”

Steve blinks at him, a bewildered, wide eyed stare. Tony can feel the other’s hand, though out of sight, reach for the nurse call.

“That won't be necessary,” He tries to say softly, but it comes out more cold and controlled than he means for it to. “I’m fine.”

Of course, Steve still presses the button, and Tony lets out a sigh. Suddenly everything in the world feels like it makes sense, and he pulls the IV unfeelingly from his arm. He blinks and swings his legs over the side, and when Steve moves to push him back he shakes the super soldier's hand off easily, an odd burning feeling tickling behind his eyes.

“Tony.” Steve says sharply, the name coming out behind a sharp gasp, and Tony catches his wrist just as he grabs his communicard, tilting his head to the side as he presses the standby button himself.

“There’s nothing wrong with me Steve.” He says softly, releasing the card and standing up. “Well, not right now anyway. If I can’t stop the rapid reproduction of my cells I doubt I’ll make it another 24 hours.”

“I- what?” Steve blinks and pushes the chair he’s sitting in back a few feet before standing up, looking as though he’s getting ready to push Tony back and hold him down to the bed himself.

Tony smiles, trying for reassuring as he gets to his own feet, ducking easily to evade the others arms as they move up to close around him.

“Steve, you don’t seem like you’re listening to me.”

The man recovers fairly quickly, though his footing seems uncharacteristically unsure as he approaches Tony’s retreating form.

“I’m listening to you Tony, I just think that you’ve been in the hospital for 12 hours and just recovered from a very intense set of seizures, and that you might not be in the right of mind.”

Tony lets out a soft sigh and shakes his head, opening the door and looking both ways before slipping out, Steve hot on his tail, breathing down his neck but not touching him yet.

“No, Steve. I’m actually the most sane I’ve ever been. To be fair, as of- what did you say? 12 hours ago? I wouldn’t have thought this possible at all.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Tony?” The man whisper-yells as they turn the corner and slip out of the mansion’s med-bay.

“I mean, Steven. That I am currently operating at 27% brain capacity. Normal humans utilize only 10% of their brain. Whatever happened to me has allowed me to expand my cerebral abilities.”

“Tony…” And that’s Steve’s concerned voice. 

Tony can easily zero in on the other man’s vitals, not even skipping a beat as he winds his way through the mansion’s halls towards the kitchen. Steve’s breathing is slightly elevated, and there’s a level of adrenaline that indicates a rise of stress and anxiety. The man’s heart has sped up slightly, and his body temperature has already gone up by a full degree. Tony can feel the synapses in his brain firing at a rapid pace.

“Calm down,” He says softly. “You’re going to give yourself a headache at this rate.”

Steve shakes his head. “Tony, I don’t- I don’t understand. I really don’t think that you should be out of bed either.”

“But you trust me.” He comments matter-of-factly, skirting gracefully around the edge of the island in the kitchen, and opening up the door to the fridge.

There’s no hesitation. “Yes.”

Tony smiles and grabs all 10 of the leftover food containers. He blinks, and realizes that he can see right through the container, place each food by sight and smell, and approximate caloric content as well as an array of vitamins and minerals and things that usually appear on nutrition labels, plus some. He lets out a short laugh, a rough huffing sound that sounds torn between interested excitement and rising uncertainty. 

34%.

Tony separates out the boxes in a flurry of movement that leaves Steve blinking at him owlishly. He just flashes him a smirk, going for something casual though it’s likely that if Steve’s paying enough attention he can see the strained edges. Tony pushes 7 of the containers towards Steve.

“Here, you’re hungry. You need approximately 1,865 to 2,015 calories in order to avoid headache or minor fatigue within the next 4 hours.” 

Steve just stares at him for a minute or so, and his perspiration picks up. Tony tilts his head slightly and slides over closer to Steve, pulling out a couple of forks, and handing one over to the other man. He lets a hand rest on Steve’s shoulder, kneading lightly at the tense muscles there.

There’s a spike in heart rate, blood pressure, his perspiration picks up even more, and for a moment his oxygen levels drop as he holds his breath. Tony doesn’t let the moment of shock show. He can see everything, or at least it feels like it, and yet…

Steve likes him. Is possibly as head over heels for him as Tony is for the man himself. There’s no mistaking that sort of reaction, conscious or no. He tilts his head slightly, perhaps this is a bad time to realise such a thing, considering his very palpably shortening lifespan, but that’s never really stopped him before.

“Steve?”

The blond looks at him, shoveling a large fork full of pasta into his mouth, eyes flicking back and forth between the space around Tony’s head and his face. He can hear the blood pumping through his veins, can tell the difference in his metabolism, his organs, the overall elevation of his physical being. However, there’s an undertone, something that he can only really describe as Steve’s very own brand of inherent human sweetness. And when did he become so far removed from human?

He flinches. 38%. Imminent vessel failure 17 hours.

Tony shakes his head and lets his hand run down Steve’s arm, easily detecting the slight shudder that runs through the other man. He’d never noticed the minute reactions before, always pushed anything he noticed away if he hadn’t noticed it at all. He knows that it’s a bit cliche to say that their friendship was more important, but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit it, because Tony has never really had people that he could trust and Steve had somehow become one of them.

“As much as I’m loath to say it, after we eat I think that we should call both Hanks’ and Reed.”

Steve blinks at him, very obviously bewildered. Tony tries not to smile, he knows that the admission is somewhat out of his known character, but he’s changed quite a lot in a very short amount of time. He’s becoming disjointed, disconnected. It would be frightening if he could feel fear anymore.

“What?”

He moves his hand up and squeezes Steve’s bicep. 

“I know, it sounds crazy coming from me, but I can’t do this on my own Steve. I know a lot of things, even more so since whatever has happened to me has started happening, but I’m…” He hesitates. Steve is a worrier, in fact he’s probably actually the definition of worried. To come out with this in a more controlled environment than the first casual slip as they’d been making their way out of the med bay and to the kitchen, is something more serious for Steve. Tony makes offhand self deprecating comments often, sometimes letting on to his self sacrificing and borderline suicidal actions and ideations. Those things sometimes still bothered Steve, even more so as they’ve grown closer...but if he trusts anyone, it’s Steve. “I’m not going to make it through the rest of the day at this rate. The more my brain capacity increases, the more my body begins to fail to contain me. I’m dying.”

He takes a bite of the roll tucked off to the side of one of his take out containers, tilting his head as it’s components dance through his consciousness. 

Steve gapes at him. “Tony, this isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking Steve. I know I’ve “been dying” more than a couple of times since we’ve met, but this is...something different from those. I’m really not entirely sure that I’m going to be able to fix this one.” He tries for a smile, but he’s painfully aware that he falls a bit short on the actual expression. He squeezes Steve’s arm again.

“No.” Steve’s voice has that slight Captain America tone to his voice that tells Tony that the decision has already been made for him.

He won’t be dying any time soon if Steve has anything to say about it. He’s not sure if that’s actually going to help, but it makes his heart rate pick up and his blood rush upwards and inwards back to the centre of his chest. His dopamine, adrenaline and norepinephrine levels have increased and he kinda wants to laugh because if he hadn’t known that he was in love with Steve before he would be repeatedly hit by a train with the reality of it on him right now. He’s the current textbook case of someone’s brain while in love, and with even just bare minimum readings Steve would be too, if not for the heightened panic related chemicals likely stemming from Tony’s admission that he’s currently in the process of killing himself via becoming too smart. Which, to be honest, is really kind of one of the best ways for him to go. 

“You’re going to be fine. We’re going to get all of the best minds together, and we’re going to figure out how to keep you from getting any worse.” The blonde declares sternly.

Tony shakes his head, but it’s in a fond way and the smile here is much more genuine as it flows from his aching heart. “Okay, Steve.”

Steve nods resolutely and shovels more pasta into his mouth, finishing off his 5th out of 7 boxes. Tony wants to laugh, Steve’s appetite always tickles him, but now he can see the man’s metabolism as it works, and the actual repercussions that he’s begun to suffer from the lack of proper caloric intake. He leans into Steve’s side, ignoring the eyes that snap in his direction in order to scarf down some more food to make up for his rapidly reproducing cells. After about a minute Steve goes from incredibly tense to relaxed and leaning back in towards Tony, their heads tilted together in a way that might look awkward from the outside, but was incredibly comfortable and reassuring.

It doesn’t take them very long to finish up their meals, which Tony contributes to the likelihood of Steve being anxious to get to work on making sure that Tony doesn’t die within the next 16 hours. Their arms are essentially pressed together as they walk towards the lab, Steve making a b-line towards the Starkphone that Tony had left on his desk that morning before heading off to SI. 

“Tony…”

He twirls around from where he’s already situated himself among the guts of an unfinished suit prototype. He hadn’t worked out all of the kinks, and hadn’t even really finished all of the specs if he’s being honest, but now he can see everything without even blinking.

“Yes?” He asks a bit absently. 42%.

“Where is Dr. Richards’s number?”

He turns back, blinking rapidly when metal pieces begin to move without him even touching them. As he continues to think about them, about where they should go, would fit, would come together as a superior piece, they move their way there. Without even any connectors they weave together intricately. He tilts his head and lifts a hand, pulling up the contact name in his mind, mouth tilting up when Steve gasps behind him.

“How did you-...who’s Stretch Armstrong?”

Tony chokes back a laugh. “Don’t worry about it, Steve.”

“Tony…”

He turns just enough to see Steve out of the corner of his eye, more out of an odd sense of curiosity than anything else. The suit continues to materialize at his front as he tests his command to his back-

“Just call him, Steve.”

With no hesitation, and no snap back as would have been usual for the two of them, Steve’s arm brings the phone stiffly up to his ear just after pressing the dial button. So, that’s a yes to being able to control both inanimate objects as well as living beings.

He can feel, actually feel, Steve staring wide eyed at the back of his head as he talks to Reed on a Tony-enforced autopilot. He’ll apologise as soon as all of the calls go out. Probably. Maybe…

By the time that Pym, McCoy, and Richards have all been called in, there’s an Iron Man suit far more advanced than any that he’s had the chance to put it together before standing in front of him, and he’s sitting with his legs crossed at the knee on his cushy chair, playing with being able to reform and adjust his body to anything at will.

Steve is staring glassily at him, mouth slightly open as he extends his left hand into a spindly red claw, to just the musculature, then to multiples of his own hand and back to regular.

“Tony…” Steve’s voice is weaker than he has ever heard it, wavering and breaking as he takes a tentative step forward.

He tilts his head to the side and holds his arms open in a welcoming gesture that would usually be used when asking or offering a hug. In this case it softens him to a slightly shocked and timid Captain America, who shuffles forward enough for Tony to settle his hands on the other’s waist and press his forehead into the base of Steve’s chest. Now he can feel the steady heartbeat, the flow of blood, the firing of nerves, the chemical distribution, rather than just sensing them from afar. In some ways it's oddly comforting, though half of that may be the compatibility of their mixing pheromones. 

Large hands land on his head, absently rubbing and carding through the unruly black locks. He quietly adjusts their heart rates to match one another and rubs circles with his thumbs into Steve’s waist. The man’s hands stutter to a stop as he processes their position. They are often far within each other’s personal space, but never in such an intimate ways. He can sense the tension shift, and patiently waits for Steve to speak or pull away.

“Tony...I’m…” His voice is just above a whisper, raspy as though his throat is dry. “I’m scared...for you, about you…”

Tony lets out a sigh, which feels terribly dramatic now that he’s begun to lose the necessity to breathe through his nose or mouth and can instead begin to absorb oxygen directly though his morphing skin.

Steve hardly ever admits that he’s scared. It’s likely more of a leader-of-the-group thing, and a masculinity based pride thing, than not wanting to worry other people or give them the impression that he doesn’t know what to do. There have been a few choice times when he’s heard it from the man, and that he’s admitted it himself, as it’s most often to each other considering the fact that they seem to be most trusting of one another. It’s a sort of vulnerability that even unlocking mental capacities has little ability to combat against.

“I can’t promise that I’m going to be okay, Steve. I wish that I could, but it’s just not viable considering how my body’s reacting to the cerebral progressions.” Steve tugs at this hair slightly, lighting up his nerves. The pull was unnecessary, but Tony relishes the touch and leans back, meeting azure with electric blue.

“Tony.”   
“Saying my name isn’t going to fix anything Steve, though you do sound very nice saying it.” He tries with a weak flirty undertone. Steve scowls at him, mouth twitching. “Look, I’ve never heard of this before, and I’m going to bet that none of the others have either. The likelihood is that it’s going to take us too long to figure out how to stabilize it or reverse it, and I’m not going to sugarcoat that. I’m breaking apart, deteriorating in a way that’s not going to be treatable with modern medicines.”

There’s hardly a break between his last word and Steve’s first. “Do you even know what it is? What made this happen? There wasn’t anything magical or even that technological in the fight today. Have you been doing something you shouldn’t have?”

He blinks a couple of times, before pressing his forehead back into Steve’s abdomen, letting out a low laugh. He’s completely pushed the incident from earlier that morning out of his mind, after all, he’s pretty intimately familiar with kidnapping, and nothing really seemed to have happened. Of course, in that short amount of time there is a possibility that during his blackouts they had done something to his body. He thinks that it’s probably unlikely that the nicely dressed men that had abducted him had connections to magic, but he’s been  wrong before…

“I was kidnapped this morning.”

“You what.” Steve replied lowly, and there was something unmistakably angry there. Tony wasn’t entirely sure whether it was the fact that he had been kidnapped, or that he had failed to let them know that was inspiring that particularly familiar emotion.

He leaned back, but continued to avoid Steve’s eyes as he focused on the middle distance, trying to recall as much as he could about those fuzzy moments before and after the blackouts. He remembered feeling a small twinge on the lower left side of his stomach, and removes one of his hands from Steve’s side in order to check the irritated skin there. When his hand comes back minutely bloody, having come in contact with an unprofessionally stitched incision he’s got the general idea.

“I think,” He starts, turning his hand and scanning the blood as Steve patiently waits, “that I’m being drug muled.” He lets out a light snort and prods back at the incision, pulling at the stitches as he delves his mind inward, finding a ruptured plastic bag with a clean cut, a bright blue crystallized substance firing off as it mixes with his body fluids. “Or they had a new drug that they wanted to try out on me, because if it worked they’d know, but if it killed me they get a two in one for knowing that the drug is too concentrated and taking out a big wig in the business world. Someone that doesn’t engage in drug deals or cater to mafia or gang proceedings.”

“You’ve been drugged?”

“Is that what you got from everything I just said?”

“Tony.”

“Yes, Steve, I’ve been drugged with an unfamiliar substance that has caused my brain capacity levels to expand past the average 10% and it’s killing me. Actually, given the amount of people that hate me I’m surprised that I haven’t been drugged quite to this extent yet, I mean we’ve all been drugged, but it’s never put us at death’s door-”

“This is not a fun experiment Tony!” Steve’s hands are squeezing his shoulders painfully, and he shifts his cells, muscles and fats to insulate his bones and nerves. 

“I’m not saying that it is, Cap!”

“At least if it’s a drug we can get something to flush it out of your system.”

“Theoretically.”

“What?” Steve’s voice has found its place in a tense and commanding tone, stuck between Captain America, concerned Steve, and angry super soldier.

Tony sighs heavily and rubs his forehead against Steve’s abs, preening silently when he feels the man’s muscles relax.

“I can’t tell what the drug is, and I should be able to. Just by looking at things now I can discern the individual pieces from which they are comprised of, but this doesn’t make any sense.”

There’s a brief pause during which he doesn’t need his increased hearing or sensory inputs to hear Steve breath slowly.

There’s a light knock at the door, and Jarvis peeks in around the corner, evidently unsurprised by the picture that they make together. “Excuse me sirs, but Dr’s. Pym, Richards, and Reed are requesting entrance to the lab.”

Tony huffs out something akin to a laugh and gives Steve’s middle one last squeeze and press of the head before he pushes away just enough for socially demanded comfort.

“What timing!” He jokes, throwing a brilliant smile towards the other men as he waves them in. “Welcome to the party boys!”

Both Hank’s have a sort of fondly exasperated look on their faces. Reed doesn’t even look over at them, preoccupied with scanning all of the areas of Tony’s lab- which he isn’t particularly comfortable with- before coming to stop at a respectable distance.

“Steven said that it was urgent we make our way over,” Reed states rather blankly, tilting his head slightly as he looks Tony over for anything unusual, “Do you know what it is that you’re experiencing?”

McCoy already has a paw on his wrist, checking his pulse with his surprisingly soft paw pads.

“Well, I did just realise that I’ve been drugged, so that may be the place to start. That being said, the main concern at this point in time is that I’m currently in the process of dying.” He responds cheerily, turning his smile on Steve as he catches the man’s unhappy glower.

Pym blinks at him. “Tony, we’re not those kind of doctors.”

“Oh?” His lips curled up enough that his teeth show, and shoots a wink off towards Steve as he begins making his body shift. He changes his hair from black to blonde, and lengthens it past his ears in a mass of curls. He lifts the glasses off of McCoy’s face and drops them on his own, continuing to smile as he lengthens his teeth into fangs and opens up his computer holograms in a flurry of blue light around them. “You don’t think that this is in your wheelhouse?” He asks, voice echoing through his extensive speaker system.

McCoy is the only of the three to actually take a step forward rather than back, and Tony figures that it sort of makes sense considering the fact that the man is around mutant children who have yet to learn how to control their gifts almost 24/7.

“Good lord. This is unprecedented.”

He hums and cuts everything off, allowing them to return to normal.

“My cerebral capacity has been steadily expanding, and it’s eating away at my body. I’m at approximately 45% brain capacity, with a maximum of 16 and a half hours left before my imminent demise.” 

As he says this Steve’s eyes snap to him sharply.

McCoy nods calmly. “You said you were drugged?”

Tony nods, shifting his shirt up to show the reddened incision and rough stitches. “A recent development.”

“A bag?”

Tony nods again. “Cut on purpose. I wasn’t meant to transport it, seems like they wanted a slow flow of their new experimental medication.”

“So, we don’t know what it is?”

“It’s not anything I’ve ever heard of, but the chemical compound that I’m reading from it doesn’t really make sense.”

Steve has somehow gravitated back towards him again, hovering like a protective dog. Tony would not be able to hold back laughter if the man starts to growl when the others start coming close to examine him.

“This is fascinating!” Reed excalimes, stepping a bit too close and touching Tony  _ a lot. _ And no thank you, he already doesn't like Reed, and he certainly doesn't like touching. His eyes catch worried but tense azure. Well, he doesn't mind touching under certain circumstances and from certain people. 

He narrows his eyes and lifts Reed’s hands away without touching them, watching as the man blinks at them in apparent awe, lengthening them slightly only to find his skin tightened back up as though not even having been stretched at all. Pym shakes his head, and Tony knows that he’s not the only person here that really wishes they didn’t need Reed for something like this, but alas…

McCoy pulls a small bag out of the backpack that he has slung over his shoulder. It’s kind of cute, has a little Xavier X on it in silver and everything. Tony really ought to make an Avengers version of that, would be great PR. The bag is filled with a mixture of scientific and first aid devices, and he gives Pym a pair of rubber gloves as he rubs an alcoholic wipe over the wound. Tony cuts off the pain receptors as Pym takes out the stitches, the man looks on the unhealthy side of pale.

Steve is gripping his shoulder, probably tighter than he means to, but he doesn’t really mind.

“Maybe you should take a seat Pym, you can take a look at the drugs after they’re outside of my body, yeah?”

Pym blinks slowly before nodding and moving away as McCoy takes over. Tony helps by reaching in after Hank has the skin pulled back on either side, his fingers slipping past the muscles and fat to grab the opened bag and slip it out. Steve makes a sharp inhaling noise as he does so, but still spreads out the towel that Hank hands him so that Tony can drop what’s left of the drugs on the table.

“You said the the compound didn’t make sense, yes?” McCoy asks as he takes as small pair of tweezers and begins to pick at the bright blue drug.

“Yes.”

“So you know what it is?”

“It comes off as CPH4.”

Reed’s attention snaps back to the matter at hand, narrowing back in on Tony rather than the pouch on the table. “The infant development molecule?”

Tony leans back slightly, waving away McCoy when the man comes in ready to do new sutures, simply focusing on knitting the area back together organically. “The very same,” He responds distractedly.

Reed moves to the computer terminal and turns his head just enough that Tony knows he’s being addressed, though the man’s already focused more on the terminal than anything, probably already running through calculations and connections to his own open wire.

Tony opens up the heads up display, opening a minor terminal for Reed’s use. As soon as it’s available and shining in front of him the man’s hands fly over the keys.

Tony squeezes his eyes shut as a wave of nausea and pain crashes over him. His hands grip the arms of the chair tightly and he shivers as his skin seems to shift on its own.  He tips his head back and grits his teeth. There’s a far away impression of Steve saying his name over and over again, and it comes slowly into focus as he’s able to blink his eyes open again. Everything seems brighter, and there are more wavelengths dancing in his vision than before- in fact, he can even see that Jan is calling one of her society friends, and by gently probing at it with his finger he can hear everything she’s saying. He closes off his connection to the phone line, and turns his attention back to the men around him.

“Tony!” Steve near shouts again, his hands are curled not unlike talons around Tony’s shoulders.

“I’m fine, Steve.” He means for it to be reassuring, but based on the widening of Steve’s eyes he’s somehow done just the opposite.

“Steve?” McCoy asks, a paw dropping on his shoulder.

“He just- I just…” Steve gives his head a little shake and locks eyes with Tony. Their faces are only a few inches apart, and if Tony was still able to blush - he probably was, but he certainly felt like he had surpassed that certain reaction after he had graduated at 16 - he probably would have. Nothing like having the man that you’re in love with lock eyes with you and stand with his face incredibly close to yours. “Do that again.”

Tony pulls himself out of his lovesick reveries, furrowing his brows at Steve’s question.

“Do what again?”

The blonde pulls in a breathy gasp, and he looks back and forth between Tony’s eyes.

“He’s speaking directly in my head.”

All three scientists turn towards the two of them.

“Anthony,” Beast starts, he flips a page up on the clipboard in his hands, pen poised, “how are you feeling? Has the percentage changed?”

Tony doesn’t look away from Steve, still reeling a bit from the fact that Steve has just implied that he just spoke telepathically to him. He plays with testing the fact by leaning in and pressing his lips against Steve’s while saying something witty and romantic in his head, but chickens out, and bites down on his tongue before “speaking” again.

_ “I’m feeling fine now, all things considered. That little episode marks 57% capacity and a reduction of remaining hours until imminent vessel failure to 10 hours.” _

Hank shifts, but doesn’t seem too unsettled- considering the fact that he lives with a telepath Tony figures that the reaction, or lack thereof, makes complete sense, even if Steve’s face says he’s unhappy with the lack of concern-, writing down the new information before turning back to what he was doing before. 

Reed hums lowly when McCoy places the clipboard by him, and Pym leans over the surprising amount of chemicals that have made their way from his bag onto Tony’s desk to see what it says as well.

“I think,” Richards starts, “that our best bet would be fully remove or revert back any trace of the drug and try to get Stark’s body as close as we can to its former state.”

Beast nods, adjusting his glasses as he moves over towards Pym’s little set up. “Have you made any headway?”

The other Hank pauses briefly with a grimace. “Not exactly. I’m thinking that we’ll need a combination of biochemical and technological influences to take away the deterioration effect. This drug tests extremely concentrated, and if Tony wasn’t working on an electromagnet, it’s likely that his heart would have stopped long before now.”

Steve lets out a puff of air that brushes across Tony’s face, and he pulls away to start pacing. Now that he’s no longer pinned by Steve’s stare he turns more fully to the double set up, and only blinks once before some of the answers come flowing in.

_ “May I?” _

Pym jumps and turns to him, blinking vacantly a few times before actually responding.

“Knock yourself out.”

 

…

 

It’s nearly 2 hours, 40% more capacity progress, and one meal later that they have a very plausible and feasible plan. Tony is nearing the 5 hour lifespan mark, and Steve has near worn a path in the floor.

Everything seems very little. He hadn’t really had time to stop and think about it earlier, everything was mostly figure out what’s happening, feed body, cope, and not die. Now that he has something of a break, all of the sudden his body has become inconsequential, and the world has become massively tiny. As he sits in the middle of their little testing area, the three scientists making final preparations while Steve hovers anxiously above them, he breathes in and closes his eyes. Suddenly he’s not in the room at all, but hovering above himself, beyond himself. He can feel everything from the spinning of the Earth, to the acute pull of gravity, to all of the currents that flow through the air. He goes up and up and up until he’s standing by himself, holding the earth in his hands. Then the world really is terribly small, hovering there above his fingers.

The Earth is so fragile and he’s one of the few people that constantly and consistently decide to put their lives on the line for it. It’s a precious thing, this little malformed ball that he holds, and though it holds many of his unsavory memories, it’s also home to his best. When it all comes down to it, the Earth is his home, and humans are his people...maybe aside from people like Justin Hammer and Victor Von Doom, but generally speaking the sentiment holds up. 

Tony tilts his head to the side slightly, blinking as everything blurs in and out, fading and flickering as he essentially dies- which he thinks he probably ought to be used to, though he’s very sure that dying has never been so surreal or quite as introspective. Tony has a great love for the Earth, a passion to protect it, though it often falls to the background as he falls through work at SI, engineering and inventing, and superheroing. Now, as he thinks about it, the world and its importance also seems to change, in a way, with his relationships. That’s not to say that it ever necessarily becomes less, but that it can most definitely become more. Now, as he pulls himself back down, walking soundlessly around the lab area and to Steve’s side, he finds that this, with the past decade or so, has become one of the times of more. 

Tony has never had many true friends, though he has been fortunate to have an intimate few. Somehow, Steve had managed from the day they first found him in the ice, to worm his way not only into Tony’s life and head, but his heart as well. Before the undeniable physical evidence provided by his expanded cerebral capabilities Tony had repressed his thoughts and feelings, pushing them off as unrealistic and improbable. Now he smiles lightly, fondly, lovingly at the man who is so visibly distraught at the thought of his harm and imminent demise.

“Are you ready, Tony?” McCoy asks, turning away from the makeshift set up to look at him, and he knows the picture that it presents. “Anthony, can you hear me?” 

Steve turns sharply, taking a deep breath in as he takes in Tony’s semi-catatonic state. He can feel, see, and hear, the visible spike in the man’s heart rate and adrenaline, and his smile doesn’t disappear as he moves back to his body. He loses a few seconds in between arriving back in his body and actually blinking his eyes open. 

“Are you with us, Anthony?” Beast questions.

All four of them are looking his way, though Pym and Richards are still fiddling with the different components back at the table while McCoy and Steve are bent down right in front of him.

“I’m alright, I’m here.” He doesn’t even sound like he was slurring or like he’s even left his body at all. 

Steve deflates a bit, and Hank just nods.

“Are you ready?”

“More than I’ll ever be.” 

Hank nods again, and the scientists descend upon him. Which really sounds more frightening than it is considering the fact that if he yelled, “Boo!” right at that moment all three of them would jump back a good foot before recovering. 

He hooks himself up to the electrodes and gets the machines going, not even wincing when Pym slides a needle into the crook of his arm. Reed hooks up a small machine to the clear tube, and he and Pym mix together the solution that they created, pouring it into the clear container and watching as it bubbles.

“This is probably going to be very uncomfortable.” Reed says matter of factly, not that he’s surprised, Reed’s never been great with people.

“Just do it, Richards.” He counters with a press smile, reaching forward and snatching Steve’s hand before the man can lean away, giving it a tight squeeze and meeting his eyes only a moment before nodding to the others. As they adjust the levers and set everything to start he feels Steve squeeze back before everything becomes hazy. 

Reed was right when he said that it was going to be uncomfortable, though perhaps straight up just saying painful would have been more accurate. The serum is injected straight into his veins, and he can feel each one burn individually. His brain retaliates, blocking off patches and beginning to cut off his heart, causing further arrhythmia than was already present in his less than fully functional heart. An opaque, foggy sheen erupts from his skin, encasing him and making his vision blurr until he can only just make out the other people in the room by vague shapes and the constant pressure on his hand. He struggles to pull in a breath, his organs shutting down as his brain tries to reject the combination electrical and chemical stimulation. He feels as though he’s being poisoned, electrocuted, boiled, and stabbed all at the same time, and he’s vaguely aware that if Steve hadn’t been a super soldier that he may have very well already fractured the other man’s hand.

“Tony, you need to breathe.” McCoy says softly, or maybe he yells, Tony can’t really tell at this point, his audio input a mess of his irregular pulse and rush of blood along with an electronic white noise symphony. 

“Tony,” this voice seems a bit closer, and the heat suggests that the body is close to his face, “stay with me okay? I need you to breathe for me. Just breathe like I do.”

Steve’s voice is low and calm. It’s not demanding or commanding like his trademarked Captain America voice. No, this is Steve, just Steve. The Steve that he meets in the morning when he actually makes it to breakfast. The Steve that laughs as they spar. The Steve that comes to his lab at fuck o’clock to bring him Chinese takeout. The Steve that he meets in the middle of the night in the library, the one that talks to him in hushed tones with melancholy smiles. The Steve that grabs tight to his waist and shoulders when he flies them in the suit. The Steve that he’s fallen entirely, totally, completely, and irrevocably in love with.

He tunes into the slow pattern of breathing in his ear, and forces himself to pull in shaky breaths with the man next to him, and begins to reason with his own brain. He grits his teeth together. He’s been here before. Not precisely this way, but he’s been here before. This isn’t the first time that he’s been dying, but it is the first time that he was distinctly not ready for it, not in some way wanting it. 

So, he can’t die now. He won’t allow it, and if Tony Stark is anything it’s a stubborn son of a bitch. He pushes himself, pushes and pushes and pushes, not allowing himself to fall any deeper into the deep, dark and fuzzy void that lingers around him. There’s some other muffled talking, and everything ramps up once more, pouring more and more of the solution into him until he’s arching in acute pain. He thinks that he might be making noises, groaning or yelling, but he’s not sure and frankly doesn’t really care.

He pulls in a deep breath then pushes his shoulders back and arches up, grinding his teeth together as he barely hold himself together, watching as the percentage seems to flicker on the backs of his eyelids. 97. 97. 97. 98. 98. 98. 98. 98. 99. 99. 99. 99. 99.

He won’t. He won’t let it.

“Tony, please.” Steve’s voice cracks just a bit, he sounds...broken.

  1. 99\. 99. 99. 99. 9-



He shudders, body beginning to spasm as it had when everything had begun to come on. 

  1. 85\. 78. 64. 53. 48. 32. 32. 32. 32. 31. 31. 31. 31. 31. 31. 31. 30. 30. 29. 29. 29. 29. 29. 29. 29. 29. 29. 29. 28. 28. 28. 28. 28. 28. 28. 28. 28. 28. 28. 28. 28. 28. 28. 28. 28. 27. 27. 27. 27. 27. 27. 27. 27. 27. 27. 27. 27. 27. 27. 27. 27. 27. 27. 27. 27. 27. 27. 27. 27.



“He’s stabilizing.”

“Heart rate normal.

“Blood pressure normal.”

“Oxygen levels normal.”

“All of the serum is in his body.”

“Electrodes disconnected.”

“Brain function seems slightly elevated, but well within functioning parameters.”

“Cells reproducing at normal levels.”

  1. 27\. 27. 27…27…...27………………...27……………………...27. He could live with that.



“Steve?” He rasps slowly, and he gets his hand squeezed tightly, shining blue eyes in his direct line of sight when he slowly pries open his heavy eyelids.

“Hey, Tony.” Steve smiles slightly at him.

“Hey.” He says back, letting himself smile in return.

“Okay. You seem like you’re in the clear, but I think we should probably monitor you for the next 18 hours at least.” Pym says with a smile, putting a hand on Tony's shoulder and shaking slightly. “Good to have you back.”

McCoy writes down a few more things, then he and Pym slowly trickle out of the room, supposedly to go get something to eat, or maybe to pass out after the stressful day. Reed’s eyes shine a bit crazily at the Starkpad that’s now full of a butload of data on Tony’s experience. He shuffles dazedly out of the room not long after the other two, and Steve helps Tony over to the old couch against the far wall.

They sit down heavily, the couch creaking under their combined weight.

“Steve?”

Steve hums softly, turning towards him.

Tony opens his mouth with the full intention of saying something, but nothing comes out. He’s always been something horrible with emotions, with relationships. So instead he says, “It seems like I’m going to be stuck at 27% brain capacity.”

Steve snorts. “Sounds like something that you’d like. You can now officially say that you have higher brain function than anyone in the world.”

Tony lets out a barking laugh. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

Steve just smiles at him, something in his eyes going soft.

“No, I...meant to say something else.”

Steve raises his eyebrows and makes a “continue” gesture.

“I…” Love you. That’s not that hard. Just a huge bombshell of handing his broken heart to his best friend. 

Steve’s head tilts, and God, every minute that he waits the man just makes himself more adorable and lovable and cute, and sweet and-

“Fuck, I love you…” He bursts out. “...um…” 

Steve blinks at him, his cheeks rapidly pinking, and Tony feels panic beginning to push at his chest. He pushes back, and he’s glad he does when Steve smiles at him. Then he decides to take a chance, and figures better now than never. He leans in slowly, telegraphing his movements as he raises one hand to Steve’s cheek, and presses their lips together.

Steve makes a soft noise, something in between relief and satisfaction. When Tony pulls back they look at each other for a moment before Steve smirks and pulls him back in with a hand on the back of his neck, eagerly swiping his tongue across Tony’s lips. The heat of his body burs deliciously, and his quickening heart rate is the thing of dreams.

Somehow they end up horizontal, Tony’s hands bracketing Steve’s head as one of Steve's hands tangles in his hair, the other rubbing over his back. He licks into Steve’s mouth, running his tongue along the backs of Steve’s teeth, biting his lips lightly, and moving their tongues together in a way that’s reminiscent of two bodies moving together as one. Steve is making these little noises that are so sweet and content that he wants nothing more than to hear them over and over.

They probably spend an hour just necking on his old lab couch, and it’s one of the best hours of his life. When they finally pull away for an extended amount of time, turning to lie on their sides facing each other, and just barely fitting on the couch, Tony finds himself petting Steve’s hair and nuzzling up against him.

“I love you too, you know.” Steve says quietly.

It takes Tony a couple of seconds, as he drops a few light kisses on Steve’s cheeks, and he just hums inquisitively.

“Earlier you said that you loved me, but I never said anything back. I love you too.”

Tony leans back slightly so that he can see Steve’s eyes. “I know.”

Steve blinks, then smiles again, leaning in to kiss him chastely.

Tony leans his forehead in against Steve’s. He can hear Steve’s heart beating, his steady breathing, can smell something uniquely Steve, and he feels more comfortable than he’s been probably ever in his life. He holds Steve close and lets himself drift off.

Things may get a bit more complicated from now on. He’s going to have to get used to his expanded cerebral capabilities. They’re going to have to make sure that Tony doesn’t begin to fall back into slow destruction. They're going to have to find a way to break it to the team that Tony now has another...special ability. Things may be weird and hard, but they’re superheroes, they’re used to it, and now they’re going to be doing it together. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic that I've been working off between the other 5 or 6 that I've started, because apparently I like to torture myself. As per usual I'm the only one that has looked over this, and though I have gone through and edited it there may still be mistakes, feel free to let me know about them.  
> PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK.  
> COMMENTS ARE BEAUTIFUL THINGS.  
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> -Castor


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